Sam
he person who got him is a boy. Younger than Sam. The carnage continues. It wasn't over. Until the number drastically decrease from eighty plus.... to six.
Sam has been playing dead for thirty minutes now. His neck cranes. His back hurts. His nose has lost its sense of smell.
The smell of the dead is horrible. So much whether he breathe through his nose or mouth. He can still sniff and taste the blood in his tongue.
The remaining six look at each other. Exchanging wary glances.
"How many keys do you all guys have?"
The girl asks. There is exhaustion in her voice she fight hard to suppress.
"No one answered." The girl sighed. "Look, do you want to survive or not? Tell me how many keys you have!" She urged.
Some flinch. The other frail girl beside her evidently did so. How she managed to survive, Sam doesn't know. The rest of the group are boys. Some have strong arms that can wrap itself on Sam's neck and choke him. They are taller. More well built.
